


The Ritual

by Golden_Horns



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Bloodplay, Death, Gore, M/M, Mind Control, Multi, Tentacles, Transformation, Werewolf, Worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 15:49:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9079303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Golden_Horns/pseuds/Golden_Horns
Summary: Aleister falls into a sadistic trap laid by Bones. A Bad-end AU starring two D&D OCs.





	

Aleister knew even before he opened his eyes that he was in trouble. With a little concentration he found himself going over the last thing he could remember, a sparring match with Ama. Even that, though, was painful and fuzzy, and the harder he tried to focus on it, the worse it became, and so finally he gave up. A dull ache throbbed in his temple and flowed up and down his spine, sending flashes of pain just behind his eyes. He went to rub his face with his hands, to try to clear the pain away, but found that his wrists refused to move. Instead, he was rewarded with only the clinking of metal on metal. Chains. His golden eyes snapped open, the pain momentarily forgotten as fear surged through him. 

He was on his knees close to a wall in a medium sized room made of stone, two torches on either end casting long shadows through the middle. His wrists were bound tightly above his head on a chain that led up the wall to the ceiling, forcing him to kneel and leaving him unable to lay down. There was also a heavy metal collar around his neck, as he figured out when he tried to lower his head, that prevented him from looking down. He could feel its rusty edge against his neck, scraping and scratching at even the slightest movement. He groaned in pain, his voice hoarse. 

Should he call out? Surely this was all a great misunderstanding, and he had been mistaken for someone else, a much more violent werewolf. Someone would come for him and unbind him and lead him out of here, and Ama would hug him so tightly he was lifted off the ground as she always did. Then they would hunt down the real monster together. He was hungry too, as if he had not eaten in days. He would ask for a feast as repayment for this misunderstanding. He could see it now, and it brought a little smile to his face.

However, this was forgotten as his gaze continued to sweep the boundaries of his current prison. Had he not been a werewolf, and thus gifted with supernaturally keen eyesight in the dark, he might not have been able to see what occupied the middle of the room. It might have been better for him that way. Bathed in the flickering shadow between the four mounted flames was a long wooden table, spattered in a dark, congealed substance. Blood. Blood on the table, blood on the floor below it, even up on the ceiling. Scattered haphazardly around the table were objects of all sizes, tongs and jagged saws and leather cords and even what looked like a small metal cage. He squinted at it, but his mind could not seem to come up with a use for it. There was also a closed tome on the table as he looked harder, with no title, only a featureless black cover. The sight of it filled him with dread even though he could not possibly have consciously explained why, and so he forced himself to look away to quell his rising nausea. 

Thoughts of the room’s purpose had only begun to swirl through his mind when they were interrupted by something infinitely more immediate. On the wall opposite him, a sigil his eyes had missed on a first glance began to glow, its curves and angular lines sparking into light until they intersected into an unbroken shape. Then, that brightness flared so hotly that Aleister had to look away, spots clouding out his vision and blinding him for a long moment. When his vision finally cleared, he was no longer alone in the room. A cloaked figure stood across from him in the previously empty space. The sight of them sent a shudder down Aleister’s spine. The little werewolf couldn’t meet the figure’s eyes, but felt them crawling over every inch of his form like someone might inspect a herd of cattle, or a particularly tender piece of meat. 

“Glad you’ve come to get me out of here!” He said, rattling the chains that bound his wrists to the ceiling above his head. “I’m sure this is a terrible mistake, ser,” he said as he forced a grin, “I know I look like a lot of thieves, but I swear it’s just a family thing!” 

The figure was silent for a long moment, unmoving, that shadowy hood’s gaze fixated on Aleister, as if it were piercing into him and ripping his guts out. “I am no ser,” they said, their voice deep and commanding, shifting something unconsciously deep inside Aleister. “Never call me that again, dog.”

“Yes, se-“ Aleister started, and then stopped himself, gulping down his fear with a sound in his ears that could probably be heard from a mile off. Dog. He had been called that previously by men and women who had no idea of his canine side, but something was different. “Yes, my…lady?” 

“Is your mind also crippled by your curse? Shut up!” That voice roared toward him, and the young werewolf’s throat clenched, his throat suddenly blocked. He thrashed, tossing back and forth as much as he was able in his bonds, but couldn’t draw a single breath. 

The figure had begun to move toward him, agonizingly slow, until they stood before him. They raised a gloved hand and brushed down Aleister’s jawline, gripping his chin between their thumb and index finger and tilting his head up to face them. Spots had begun to cloud his vision, his mind as they pulled back their hood, their face beautiful and dangerous, male and female, hate and malice. Aleister’s lungs burned, searching desperately for air that wouldn’t come. _PLEASE!_ he screamed in his head, unable to form the words with his mouth. He was going to die, he knew in that moment. The room began to spin, his lips turned blue, soundlessly sputtering a single word, over and over as if it might save him. _Senna. Senna. Senna._

“You’re cute when you’re dying,” came that silky smooth voice through the blackness that had reduced his world to a pinpoint of light and the smell of dried blood. “Soon, but not yet.”

Air flooded back into Aleister’s lungs and he took a gigantic, loud breath, coughing and choking as his lungs fought to bring him back to life. That hand let go of his chin and his head flopped downwards as much as the collar around his neck would allow. His whole body shuddered, and he fought back tears unsuccessfully, feeling them stream down his cheeks to drip off the bottom of his chin. 

“I am Bones, since you forgot to ask,” said the figure again, their voice almost bouncy and amused. “I’m sure you just got choked up when you saw my face. It happens. I have that effect on people.” 

Aleister looked up, his chest still aching, “You’ve got…the wrong…somebody…” he sputtered, “I can…help you find him…” he nodded, trying his best to smile hopefully. “Just take me back…to my friends, and we can-“

“You still don’t get it, do you?” Bones said, a note of surprise in their voice. “I thought you were just stupid like every other magical mongrel I’ve eviscerated, but…are you really just _that_  
optimistic? I just brought you to the point of you calling out your lover’s name in your head, and you think this is somehow still a misunderstanding? Gods, that’s hot. I’m going to enjoy getting to snuff so much hope out of one person. Not that I really consider you a person.” Bones had a smile on their face now, full of sharp teeth and bad intentions. “I know exactly who you are, Aleister, you mangy, pathetic mutt.” Bones turned away after this, humming softly to themselves, moving to stand at the table and thumbing past the cover of that black book. 

Aleister felt his cheeks flush with shame, and he hung his head, fighting back a genuine sob of fear. This was Bones, the killer he and Ama and Senna had been chasing, working towards toppling. They’d always been a step behind. _And you just tried to plead for your life with them_ , came the thought unbidden into his head. 

This was his chance, Aleister realized. His eyes narrowed, fingernails scraping against his palm as he clenched his hands into fists. He studied Bones as they stood at the table, absorbed in the pages of that book. He could end this. A single bite would be all it would take. His fangs would sink into that flesh, and with a single wrench of his muzzle that spine would snap and fill his belly with hot blood. He could have his fill of it, bathe in his kill. Just the thought of it made his heart race. He could feel the changes beginning at his fingertips, the wolf in him leaping at the chance to take control. Normally he would fight thoughts like these, but no more. The monster was what he needed. He could be human for Senna later. Or perhaps he’d take his lover as a wolf. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. Not like he’s ever complained before. He felt unstoppable, the monster’s charismatic, instinctive ferocity rolling over him like a wave. His body was changing too, body growing larger and larger, the white fur exploding to cover his pathetically bare human flesh, nose extending into a muzzle proper. The energy of the beast was boundless, wild, and celebratory as the fangs filled his mouth and made him fight the urge to howl. He fought the monster to stay still, forcing himself to keep kneeling, so as not to rattle the chains on his wrists. 

He waited until Bones was bent over the table in what seemed to be a particularly deep moment of concentration before he pounced. He threw his huge canine form forward, snapping the chains from the ceiling like wet parchment. His pawpads thudded against the floor as bounded toward Bones on all fours like a hunter proper. He crossed the gap between them in half an instant, snarling so loud that it echoed three times in the small space. Bones only had a chance to turn halfway around before they collided, the weight of the werewolf smacking into the smaller human. Bones let out a grunt and fell backwards, throwing up a hand as the two of them continued moving, smacking into the table and flipping it. Metal instruments and that disgusting black book clattered across the floor, bouncing like child’s toys thrown in a storm. Bones raised a hand toward Aleister and the wolf smacked it away with a casual flick of his forepaw, raking his claws across that androgynous face and exposing that delicate neck. He leaned in, running his canine tongue across it, shivering with delight. He would feast. The wolf could smell the blood running through those veins, hot and delicious. He pulled his muzzle back, a string of saliva running between his fangs and that neck, baring his fangs, preparing to strike. This was it. Meat. 

A shudder of pain ran through his body, freezing him in place. He tried to bite, but found himself barely moving, growing impossibly heavy, as though he would be crushed under his own form. His fangs touched Bones’s neck but it was the barest brush of tooth and skin. Bones moved underneath him and he followed the scent of fresh blood. Where the human hand and his belly met, Bones gripped the handle of a ceremonial dagger, the blade of it buried inside him. He could feel it burning. Silver. 

Bones smiled, the scent of fear disappearing from the wolf’s nose. Bones pushed him off easily, and Aleister collapsed, trying to grip the dagger to pull it out and failing, only staining the white fur of his chest and arms with spatters bright, angry crimson blood. The iron-filled scent of it filled the air like perfume. He whimpered pathetically, unable to stop himself. 

Bones stood, brushing themselves off, and then delivered a vicious, booted kick to the canine. Aleister heard two of his ribs crack, and so did Bones, who only grew more amused. “Good try, _mutt_. I didn’t think you had it in you. You’re too easy to bait, just like any other animal to be hunted.” That booted foot shot out again, smacking against the underside of the wolf’s jaw and snapping his muzzle upward, cracking one of his fangs and forcing out a whimper of pain. “I have to give you credit, though,” Bones’s boot nudged at the wound, making Aleister clench his cracked fangs, eliciting another whimper. He could see the blood still running out of himself, spilling onto the boot and the floor under it. It was everywhere. His vision was beginning to blur. “You got closer than anyone,” they continued. “That counts for something, you _stray_.” Bones roared and stomped down onto the handle of the dagger, and Aleister threw up his paws too late. The silver dagger embedded in his belly ripped through him easily, tearing into his skin and leaving a long, open curve of a wound from his hip to his broken rib. He let out a scream of anguish. The sound echoed of it through the room for what seemed like hours to the dying wolf.

Bones laughed, “Sleep, _mongrel_.” 

Aleister closed his eyes and saw no more. 

 

———————————————————————————————————————

Aleister floated in a sea of darkness, half alive and half dead, and accepted by neither. Flashes of light met his eyes and then faded. Sound and motion and clinking of metal and terrible pain revolved around him in constantly changing patterns. 

_“…Mkasa tried to kill…” came a muttered whisper that could not escape his sensitive ears._

_“…She let him break free to toy with me…”_

Motion, pain.

_“…strap it onto his face, like so…”_

_“…I wonder if the pup here ever uses one of these with that bitch…”_

Life and death collided with Aleister caught in between. Faces flashed before his mind’s eye, spinning into an unrecognizable whirlwind of memory and shouting voices. He was frozen inside it.

_“…All the materials…”_

Silence.

When he came around again, Aleister wished he was dead. His whole body felt like someone had doused him in oil and then thrown a torch on him, centered around his abdomen. What hurt even worse, though, was that he had failed miserably in ending Bones. You deserve this, for being so weak, Senna’s voice echoed, as real in his ears as if it had been whispered in his ear when they lay together in the dawn after the full moon. The thought made him wilt with despair. Part of his mind told him that Senna would never say that, but another part, foreign, as though it were a traveling voice making a stop in his head, agreed with Senna. _He’s already given up on his failure of a lover_ , it said. 

_No! They’re coming for me! Ama and Senna both! Any moment now, they’ll…_

“Still?” The voice assaulted his ears, painfully loud. “What does it take to make you give up, you little _gods-damned_ slice of sunshine?” There was a pause, and then a chuckle. “Actually, don’t tell me. I’m rather enjoying figuring it out on my own. Keep thinking those adorable little thoughts, I’ve enjoyed looking at them for a good long while. Senna must be truly devoted to a lust for monsters to do those things he did.” The words stung Aleister like arrows, flaring a deep anger in his heart. How dare he intrude on those precious moments! How dare he even mention Senna! 

Aleister opened his eyes just the slightest bit, the light painful and only seeming to reignite the pain in his belly. He was horizontal now, Bones standing over him, a hand twirling over the monster’s bare -and now human- chest. He tried to speak, but found himself unable to even slightly move his jaw. There was a metal bit in his mouth, and then a muzzle strapped under his nose and down to his chin, caging his mouth expertly. He thrashed frantically, but his arms and his legs were immobilized too, encased tightly in burning silver. He glanced down at his splayed body. His pants had been shredded by his transformation, and only the barest fragments still clung to his hips. His belly was marred by the massive, angry red line of his wound, though it was no longer open. Has he…healed me? 

“Yes, half-breed, I healed you. I’m capable of that,” Bones said irritatedly, as one might be annoyed by a particularly blunt friend at dinner commenting on the meal. “Originally, I planned to simply cut you up and send your friends the pieces as an example, but you got cute and gave me some different ideas. Far be it from me to be unable to adapt, and you certainly convinced me to try something new. Variety is the spice of life, you mangy mongrel!” Bones had lit a red candle now, watching the flame silently as if waiting for a sign. Nothing happened, and the candle continued to flicker. Aleister felt a little hope beginning to bubble up in him again. Perhaps I can transform aga- 

The flame of the candle turned black, a dark so deep it seemed to be absorbing the light from the torches into itself, bending the room around it. Aleister found his gaze drawn to it, the bounce of the black fire on its wick almost hypnotically soothing, burning away whatever thoughts the monster might have been having. He wrenched his eyes away, shutting them tightly. Even the wolf in him feared to look at that light, a fear that ran deeper than Aleister could consciously explain.

There was an appreciative chuckle from Bones. “Look away, or don’t, little wolf. Either way, the end will be the same.” Bones brushed a hand down Aleister’s form, over the muscles of his chest from hard farm work, and down to where Aleister knew the scar lay. Even the breezing movement of air over it hurt, so when Bones’s hand gave it a teasing little scratch, he couldn’t stop himself from bucking his chest, letting out a muffled sob of pain. His arms strained against the silvered manacles to no avail, only earning himself more agony. 

“Does that hurt?” Bones’s hand had come to rest on Aleister’s hip, fingers digging into the muscle forcefully. He could feel the nails wriggling and cutting mercilessly into his skin, and then they were curling back toward his outer thigh, dragging his shorts along with them. The tattered piece of clothing ripped away with little resistance, leaving him naked. He shivered and whimpered, the last part of himself exposed. Bones’s hand was not shy about exploring, brushing over that spot between his legs with surprising, insidious delicateness. 

“Little wolf is hung, eh? Monsters and half-breeds always are. I’m sure ladies appreciate that, or men, in your case.” A fingernail brushed across the tip of his maleness and Aleister let out a sharp breath. “Maybe, while you’re still conscious and not completely dominated by my will, I should remove it? If I take it from you as a human, does it come back when you transform? Do I get to castrate you twice?” The excitement was palpable in Bones’s voice. Aleister shook his head desperately, trying to twist his body away from that touching, explorative hand. “Fortunately for you, this part of you is necessary for the ritual. So you’re safe, for now. And if I do decide to cut it off you later, well, you won’t be aware of it. So, take comfort in that, mutt.” 

Aleister whimpered with relief as that hand moved off his manhood, uncaring of how obvious it was to Bones. He felt the head of the candle as it passed by his scar, and heard Bones’s boots hitting the floor heavily. A metal object rattled off to his side, and he opened his eyes again tentatively, unable to see the flame -or his captor- since he could not turn his head that way.  
Then Bones returned to his field of vision, this time carrying a metal cup. The werewolf’s ears could hear liquid sloshing inside it, and he suddenly realized he had absolutely no idea what was about to happen to him. 

Bones dipped their finger into the black flame of the candle and then drew it back out again, two fingers covered in red wax. Quickly, those fingers touched against Aleister’s forehead, the wax hotter than he could have thought possible, making him bite desperately into the metal bit that kept his jaw immobile. Bones repeated this process, dipping into the candle and drawing across Aleister’s forehead, then down to his cheeks on both sides. The werewolf could feel the wax drying onto his skin, the searing pain retreating in favor of a dull thudding ache. Bones blew the candle out with a quick breath, the wick smoking heavily and wafting into Aleister’s lungs. 

“That’s it, keep breathing,” Bones nodded, setting the candle by the werewolf’s head so that no matter which way he turned, the smoke found him. 

Now Bones’s attention turned to the cup of liquid. They grasped it in a hand, eyeing the contents. “Be a good pup, and the pain will be gone quicker,” said Bones, their voice taking on a soothing note. “These ingredients were expensive, so don’t thrash.” Aleister nodded, though he didn’t know why. It just seemed right. The smoke had taken on a sweet odor, seeming to float into his brain and fill it with gentle pleasure. Deep down, somewhere, he knew he should be shaking and thrashing and fighting, but it just didn’t seem worth it. Why fight Bones? They obviously had the upper han- NO! This is wrong! You need to see Senn- The thought wafted away as quickly as the smoke curled around his heart, making him smile. He hoped Bones wouldn’t see. 

There was a moment of intense stillness, and then Bones tilted the cup, letting the liquid pour downwards over Aleister’s chest and abdomen. Where the heat of the wax had been intensely hot, the white liquid was incredibly cold, like frost on a bitter winter’s day. Steam rose from it as it struck the werewolf’s body, sizzling and spreading across his bare skin. He took a shocked breath, throwing his head back and rattling the muzzle. His thrashes were sluggish, though, and Bones’s hand quelled his motion before it had even begun. “There there, pup. Just keep breathing.” Bones’s voice dominated his mind, echoing musically through him until it was all he could think about. Pup. He liked that name. Had Senna ever called him pup? He couldn’t recall. Senna was more a name to him than whatever it had been before now, just a sound in his mind that seemed to come up an awful lot. Ama, too, was a hard concept to recall. For a moment he felt he was on the verge of grasping the memory, but it slipped away like water through his fingers and he wasn’t upset to see it go. Bones was chanting now in a guttural, harsh language he couldn’t understand, and he liked listening to that more anyway. It gave him chills, especially each time Bones came to the end of a line, that powerful voice adding an animalistic flourish that sent a shiver up his spine. Suddenly he was grateful to Bones for these little pleasures. Yes, it felt very right to say that. After all, hadn’t Bones saved him when he’d fallen on that dagger? That was an incredibly selfless thing to do, going out of their way to save a wild dog like himself. 

He could feel Bones stroking through his shoulder-length black hair. He lay back, relaxing, his wrists finally un-tensing against the silver bindings on his wrists. He couldn’t stop himself letting out a moan of simple pleasure, and then another, unsure even in his own mind if it was the wolf or himself who enjoyed being touched like this so much. Perhaps both of them did. His eyes flicked up to Bones, who stood over his head by now, though their face was upside down from his point of view. Bones spoke a final word, the vowels of it coursing through him like a bird through the air. The wax that patterned his face began to glow, sending shocks of pleasure up and down his body, bringing to the surface an intense desire to touch Bones. A touch of admiration, affection, worship. Only what Bones deserved for saving his own wretched life. 

Aleister heard the clicking of a key and felt the bindings on his wrists come loose. He sat up slowly, the white liquid running in rivulets down his chest to pool between his legs. He saw that he was already incredibly aroused, but was unashamed, meeting Bones’s eyes with as much of a smile as he could manage underneath the muzzle and the bit. Bones chuckled, moving around to unlock Aleister’s ankles as well, freeing the werewolf. They could see that light in the dog’s eyes and knew that the ritual had worked even better than expected. Only one thing remained before the little half-breed was completely, unalterably crushed under the dark sorcerer’s will. 

“Come here,” they commanded, “kneel at my feet.” The thrall moved quickly, on his knees before Bones, his legs resting in a pool of blood from their earlier struggle. The werewolf didn’t even seem to notice, which surprised Bones somewhat. They’d been hiding this spell from their companions in the organization because of the ritual’s unique requirements, but if it worked this effectively on someone who actively hated the practitioner of the spell…Bones determined to enjoy it. “Look at my boots,” they said, grabbing a handful of hair and forcing Aleister to look down at the ground. With a flick of their hand they undid the combination of the muzzle and the bit, letting them clang against the stone floor. “You made them all bloody. Lick them clean. Now.” 

Aleister enjoyed the little flash of pain as Bones tugged his head down, a spear of shame coming over him as he saw those boots. They were so dirty, he whimpered to himself. How could I have done such a thing? He knelt immediately, until he was on his hands and knees, at eye level with the boots. He could feel his hands dipping into the combination of blood and ritual liquid, but all he cared about was making those boots perfect. He leaned forward, tonguing across the toe of the boot, tasting the bloody dirt in his mouth and swallowing, and then again, and again. Each swipe of his tongue brought him happiness, each glancing up at his approving master made him shiver. 

Finally, Bones had had enough. That memory would be welcomed later, but for now, the ritual needed to be completed. Otherwise all this would be for nothing. They grabbed a handful of Aleister’s hair again and simultaneously moved forward, pinning the human’s naked form against a table. They brought the werewolf into a rough, angry kiss, letting their hands run down across that surprisingly graceful form. 

Aleister’s heart was full of adoration, though his hands stayed put while he waited for the command to be given. After only a moment, the command came. 

“Tell your master how deep your love for them is, pup.”

“As deep as the sea, master,” said Aleister quickly. “I will rip apart all in your path.”

“Pick that up and bring it to me,” Bones commanded, gesturing at the bloody silver dagger laying placidly in a pool of blood. “It hungers for more blood.” Bones began to undo the drawstring of their pants as they pointed, holding them up with only a single finger once the cord came loose. They could feel the arousal coursing through both themselves and the werewolf, and it was time to finish what had been started. Aleister fetched the dagger and put it into his master’s hand, and then backed up a step. Bones let the pants fall below their hips, tapping the dagger against their bare thigh. “Use that mouth of yours to get me ready.” 

Aleister wasn’t even sure what he was seeing between his master’s legs. He had begun to hallucinate, little bits of voice and sights fluttering by his consciousness, and so the line between reality and what was here before him was blurred heavily. He knelt again, one tentacle curling up against his cheek. He gave it a gentle kiss, and then grabbed another in his other hand, fondling them affectionately. He took the tip of the largest one, in the middle, into his mouth, his tongue exploring it curiously, tracing its curves and texture. The taste coming off of it was incredible, perhaps the most intoxicating thing he had ever tasted, and he could not help but groan around it, his throat pulling it in until his nose was pressed against the warm flesh of Bones’s waist. 

“Good pup,” Bones grunted, their hand on the back of the werewolf’s head, holding him close against their body. The rest of the tentacles curled around Aleister’s head and neck, leaving affectionate little red marks like one would leave a mark on the neck of a lover. 

Suddenly, though, Bones shoved Aleister away, and Aleister felt a shock of fear run through him. What had he done wrong? This thought was quickly shoved away by Bones’s voice, soothing and hypnotic. “You’re ready, little wolf.” 

Bones moved forward, pressing Aleister back until the werewolf’s back was up against the table and he couldn’t move any further. Those tentacles brushed against his legs and curled up around his manhood, making him groan and buck reflexively against them, precum leaking in copious amounts from both parties, mixing together and filling the air with heavy musk. Aleister spread his legs instinctively as one of the tentacles probed further, brushing slickly across his hole. Almost before he had a chance to react, Bones was hoisting him up and pushing him down so that his back was against the table. Bones was there quickly, their hips connected with the touch of flesh on flesh, those two tentacles against Aleister’s pleasure centers occupied gleefully. The largest one, the one that had worked its way further beneath the werewolf’s legs was now pushing slightly inside him, delicate and gentle and refusing to be stopped. 

“Good mutt,” Bones said huskily, the sound filling Aleister’s ears and making him practically purr with need. Aleister’s hands came down to rest against the second tendril, massaging it with gentle back-and-forth pushes and rubs of his fingers. 

“Master,” he groaned needily, his arousal throbbing against that warm tendril wrapped around it. “Tell me what to say…what to do…” he panted, on the verge of losing himself already, electric arcs of pleasure bursting like fireworks in his brain. Each push of that probing tentacle further into him exploded in his belly like the most fulfilling lover he had ever known and more, occupying every inch of space that could bring such waves of lust rolling over him. And still it continued, seeming to even grow inside him, impossibly large and making him squirm with need. That slick, warm tendril was distending Aleister’s belly now, as Bones pushed their hips into the werewolf in a confident rhythm, making a visible bump that he could see and feel. He gasped, moving a hand to feel the outline of it through his stomach and practically losing himself on the spot, wanting desperately to spill his seed.  
“Change into your other form,” came the command, dominant and unyielding. Bones did not remove themselves from inside Aleister a single inch, instead only pushing playfully with the tip of the tentacle at the bottom of the werewolf’s -for now- human abdomen. 

Aleister nodded, laying back and calling up the beast inside him from its dark spot at the back of his mind, embracing it and letting it take control. It felt aware, yet sedated, as though it had just eaten the best meal of its life, predatory hunting instincts sidelined in favor of certain other needs. Aleister felt the familiar glow of change, an underlying sparking current that layered on top of the pleasure he was already being assaulted with. The result was overwhelmingly wonderful, his groan turning into a growl of lustful pleasure as his muzzle extended into a werewolf’s proper, body growing larger and white fur taking the place of skin, until all that was left of the human that had been before was the pair of golden eyes set into a vicious, fang-filled canine face. His larger werewolf arousal, with its throbbing, veiny red length and rapidly engorging knot, was quickly ensnared by two more tentacles, making three total now gently teasing at that canine length. Aleister panted openly, head tipped back, rumbling with pleasure.

Bones gripped the knife tightly in their fist, smiling meanly and shoving that tentacle further inside, almost making its way to the scar that was still present even on Aleister’s transformed belly. 

“Tell me, you disgusting stray mongrel, can you speak with your monster tongue?” They continued to thrust rapidly, rocking their largest tentacle back and forth and then curling the tip up to brush just the slightest bit against the werewolf’s prostate. The resulting spasm in the dog made the dark sorcerer proud, and they grabbed the wolf’s cock in their free hand, thumbing across the drooling pointed tip. “Tell me how irresistible this is for you.”

“Yes, master! This is irresistible! Ah!” The words were a struggle, especially since the instinct-driven werewolf mind sparked violently with each motion Bones made against him, a losing battle against the urge to retreat into a haze of lust and animally wild couplings.  
“Good. Now repeat these words after me exactly.” They grunted, clenching their teeth and allowing themselves a heavy, lustful smack of their hips on the canine’s, before slowing, placing a hand on the canine’s face, tracing one side of the wax pattern. “Tell me you love the way I hurt you…”

“I love the way you hurt me, master!” Aleister said without hesitation, bucking his hips upward and crying out for release, the beast howling with need and barely able to comprehend why it was stuck in such a tense, quivering pause before pleasure. That moment was shattered by an explosion of pain in his chest. He stared down dumbly at the hand holding the dagger now buried handle-deep into the center of his furred chest. Blood was already beginning to spill and run through his shaggy white fur. He took a long, gasping breath, his eyes meeting with Bones’s. “M…master?” 

Bones twisted the handle and basked in the resulting wolfish scream of pain, snarling evilly and yanking the dagger back out as they pushed their hips up again roughly, smaller tendrils massaging Aleister’s knotted cock. Bones rolled their hips one final time, that tentacle throbbing visibly through the bulge in Aleister’s furred belly. They reached out and dipped their hand into the blood spilling down Aleister’s body and brought it back, tasting it with their tongue before reaching down and grabbing their own tentacle and Aleister’s dick, slicking them both with hot blood. The hateful glare in Bones’s eyes flared brightly as they pumped up and down that long shaft, somehow making it an even brighter crimson than it had been before, eliciting a needy moan from the dying animal. 

“Die happy, puppy.” One final stroke on the wolf’s shaft and Bones got what they were after. The wolf was unable to stop himself from panting and thrusting his hips forward instinctively as he passed the point of no return, caught between dying and extreme, heavenly pleasure. His knot swelled to twice its normal size as his cock spasmed, sending a torrent of thick seed high into the air to rain down on his chest and muzzle. It mixed with the blood pumping hotly from his wound, even as Bones found their own climax, that tentacle throbbing inside the dog and then bursting up through the partially-healed wound in a torrent of blood, intestines, and Bones’s acidic seed, eliciting a guttural wail from the wolf. Aleister’s organs spilled freely around the throbbing, aching tentacle that had risen up through his stomach, no longer held inside his body. Bones panted heavily, gripping the hips of their victim tightly. Slowly, Bones pulled back, letting the tentacles hang limply against their thighs, smiling hatefully. 

There was a long moment of silence, as Bones listened to the wolf take those final, ragged, sputtering breaths. Then, the life went out of the beast. The sorcerer stood watching, wiping the sweat from their forehead and dropping the dagger. It clattered to the floor, the sound suddenly incredibly loud in the quieted room.

Then, there was a change. The wax on Aleister’s stony, dead face began to glow, trails from the white liquid revealing an invisible pattern as they too began to shine. The werewolf jerked violently, first one arm, and then his head, and then his hips. Then those golden eyes opened again, their shine clouding over and replaced by a sickly, unnaturally black light, the same color as the candle. The dog sat up and turned its head to watch Bones, ears perked, as if waiting for a command. Bones ran a hand over the wolf’s pierced, bloody chest and torn, eviscerated belly, touching against that cock again before fishing inside a deep bag of holding, withdrawing a branded collar and several feet of chain. They snapped it around the thrall’s neck, then stepped back and tugged on the leash. The wolf moved forward obediently, nuzzling its dominating master with unconditional affection in its deathly cold touch.

“Oh, _pup_ , now you’re mine forever. Not even death can keep us apart.”

A pause, and then a vicious, predatory laugh.

“Your old friends will be delighted to meet you.”


End file.
